Butterfly Thoughts
by maia 22
Summary: Hermione sometimes wishes she could stop concentrating on him, just for a moment... Draco makes this far too difficult.


She'd been watching him secretly for weeks now, pretending not to notice when he started to turn her way. She couldn't imagine a time when she'd been without him, could only distantly remember those happy, heady days where she wasn't in love with him so much it made her heart hurt, and life had been simpler.

She knew with the rational part of her mind that she'd only reluctantly given in to love at Christmas, so if you started counting from the day they got back after the holidays, well, that was... two months. Maybe slightly too long to be obsessing, especially over the one person who would _never _return her feelings. She should just let it go, forget, move on, all those other cloying phrases Ginny had started dripping into her head...

She's used to thinking butterfly thoughts, her mind jumping from A to B to X faster than the average person could follow. He'd always been the one person who could keep up, in class, in the rare conversations they'd been having as Head Girl and Head Boy. She supposed Professor McGonagall had hoped to appease both sides, making a staunch Gryffindor and a "reformed" Slytherin the two Heads. The tension between the Houses was still present, although in her present predicament she couldn't help but wonder if that was because so many people felt as she did... Well, she'd seen unlikelier things happen.

And reformed? Well, he had fought against Voldemort, _finally_,in that final battle. That didn't stop him being an arrogant tosser who thought he was God's gift. But then, when it was decided that the whole school would have to repeat a year, he'd opted for the extra year of studying like she had, instead of playing the Experienced War Hero card at the Aurors' office with Harry and Ron. Still... she couldn't love him, because of who he was, any more than he could like her, right?

Which was why she was sat at the Gryffindor table, pretending not to stare across to the Slytherins, absently attempting to tame her curly hair with her left hand whilst missing her mouth completely with the fork in her right.

Secretly staring, whilst her butterfly thoughts – usually so quick to work things out, to move on- stayed stuck firmly on the brightest head of blond hair at the Slytherin table, recalling the exact incident where she finally fell in love.

It was just before Christmas, and she was patrolling the corridors, looking for students who were out of their common rooms at night. Considering that it was Christmas, she was tempted to turn a blind eye, even though she'd often been criticised for being such a stickler for the rules (thanks, Ron). She was getting quite bored near the end of her stint, envisaging mugs of hot chocolate and the fire in the common room, when she finally heard some voices.

Looking forward to the idea of something occupying her thoughts other than a certain Slytherin who was in them disturbingly often, she followed the voices round the corner and down one of the many dark corridors. She paused outside one of the disused classrooms, in which the giggling had been cut off short.

She could see from her position a group of the new First Years, looking at the Head Boy, their faces the picture of abject terror. On the floor lay an abandoned picnic. She was about to walk by, not particularly wanting to meet with him tonight, when she heard him speak.

"No, I'm not going to give you detention. No, I won't take House points," he said, sounding slightly exasperated. She imagined he'd had to repeat himself several times- although she couldn't remember being _that_ small as a First Year, it was hard to believe the scary Seventh Year Prefects could mean anything good.

"But why?" asked the midget of the group, obviously overcoming his fear. A tiny boy, who reminded her oddly of Colin Creevey, a thought which made her swallow compulsively. He'd snuck back into Hogwarts last summer, and hadn't made it out.

"Because I'm tired, and it's Christmas anyway," Draco had snapped, scrubbing his face one-handed in an attempt to stay awake. She could see the dark circles under his eyes, and the ruffled state of his usually perfect blond hair. "Are you a Creevey?" he asked suddenly, sounding ten years older as he spoke. He was looking down at the First Year but plainly seeing Colin in his place. She hadn't known until then that Draco Malfoy could feel guilt or remorse or sorrow.

"Yeah, I'm Paul," the boy said, awed at being recognised by someone from the Seventh Year. He'd probably think about _why_ he was recognised later, she thought, feeling a wave of weariness herself. So many, so young. She didn't like to think that people her own age could die, and this would be the first Christmas without them.

Draco was speaking again. "Well, you don't need it right now. None of you do. It's Christmas. Scat, and I'll forget you were ever here. Just don't tell anyone I let you off, hmm?" he concluded, stepping aside as the First Years hurriedly thanked him and scarpered.

She waited until the last footfalls died away down the corridor, then went in. "Very un-Malfoyish behaviour," she mocked, although not really seeking a response. She was still confused by the departure from his usual arrogant self.

"Sometimes, Granger, I just can't be arsed," he responded, sitting down and rolling his sleeves up. _No Dark Mark ._Why was that so important?

"Really? Because that looked almost like compassion to me," she retaliated, sitting opposite him and _not _thinking about how she could be warm in bed right now- this was much more fun.

"Don't be ridiculous, Granger. I don't have a heart, so how could I possibly be compassionate?" he questioned dryly. The slight drawl in his voice as he spoke the bitter words had her leaning in, interested, although in what she didn't like to think. "They've got a good feast going here and I was hungry."

"Doesn't stop you taking House points," she pointed out. "You're a Slytherin, your meaning to life is supposed to be taking points off Gryffindor."

He smirked at that, reaching for a Chocolate Frog. "What, and ensure there's no feast here next time I'm on patrol?"

She acknowledged that with a laugh, despite knowing that it was completely immoral. She had to admit it was fairly smart.

From her laugh, Draco's face relaxed slightly, before he realised and pulled his Slytherin mask. "Anyway, don't you need to get back to the mini-Weasel? Won't she be missing her girlfriend?" he snapped out, bitingly.

She closed her mouth tightly against the retort which had been about to spring out. She couldn't expect him to continue being nice indefinitely, she supposed sadly. Malfoyness will out, even when buried under post-war freedoms. Deciding not to reply, she stormed out.

She'd returned after the holidays with the knowledge that Draco Malfoy could be a compassionate and witty person. She also returned with the knowledge that their quick-fire repartee really turned her on, and that she was falling head over heels for the boy he was when he wasn't too busy being a Slytherin.

They'd talked when they'd met in the corridors on patrol, occasionally in lessons when paired together. Every time she got a little further under Draco's shell, only for him to make some arrogant remark or derogatory comment. She supposed they were almost friends now, as far as he'd let them be.

In her dreams they were much more. They kissed, and the air grew hot and oppressive with their sighs, and there was a lightness in being in his cool arms and feeling his fingertips run under her shirt, although he was burning up too...

The dreams weren't going to become real. He was an arrogant tosser who was overly proud of his IQ- if he even knew what one was. She'd never wished more for a return of her butterfly thoughts, where the problem could be touched on, solved quickly, and she could move to the safer grounds of Ginny's latest theory on why Divination was so crap.

Grey eyes met brown as he caught her in the act of looking away. _Get out of my head, you bastard!_ There was nothing attractive about him. There couldn't be. He was Draco Malfoy.

There was nothing attractive about her. There _couldn't_ be. She was Hermione Granger.

**a/n : this is what happens when I get bored in half term... let me know what you think!**

**If anyone has any requests for what I can do next... I'm lacking in inspiration at the minute so let me know**


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